


You, Who Knows

by vesperify



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: hobbit_kink, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperify/pseuds/vesperify
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the general Tolkien section of the Hobbit Kink Meme community. Prompt: <i>In the book Legolas settles down in Ithilien where Faramir lives. So let's say instead of Eowyn Faramir and Legolas fall in love and then live happily ever after</i></p><p>In which Legolas is the one who Faramir meets first, and who he falls in love with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, Who Knows

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it'd be fun to give the kink meme a try for the first time. I've been around the Lord of the Ring fandom for a long time, probably the longest I've been in a fandom. This whole time, I've always shipped Aragorn/Legolas. Ever since I was ten. So here, I decided to try something completely different. And yes, this is my first fanfiction for Lord of the Rings. uwu I hope it was okay!

There was a silence in the air. The air was rife with grief and pain, injured men on every bed in the House of Healing. Faramir’s eyes gazed listlessly at his hands, head bowed. There may have had a victory, but the cost was great. There were burns on his arms, on his face, patches of his hair singed. It seemed the whole of Minas Tirith was in mourning, a dark shadow enveloping their land. And yet, hope was not lost. Isildur’s heir had returned to Gondor. Already, there were whispers of his bravery and his skills. Already, there was a buzz in the air, a growing belief that, finally, they would be free; that the threat of Mordor would be no more.

His stomach felt cold with dread. Faramir thought of his father, the way he had last seen him in a blaze of fire. A shiver through his body, hands clenching into fists as he shut his eyes tightly. There was an angry, reluctant acceptance prodding at his mind. Somehow, he could not find it within himself to feel surprised at his father’s actions. And so the steward had fallen to his death, a speck of light in the bloodied battlefield’s chaos. Thus, there Faramir found himself, the last in his line. There was no cold father to look towards to, not a loving brother to comfort him. There was no mother, who had long since left the living world. There was no one left for him, save for a childish Hobbit that reminded him so much of himself when he had been younger and who could bring no comfort to his weary soul.

The sound of footfalls approaching had the steward’s son lift his head. There stood an elf, his light, golden hair pulled back behind his pointed ears. With both his hands, the stranger held a jug of water and offered a quiet, reassuring smile. His clothes were clean, as were his hand, but there was a smudge of pitch black blood on his cheek bone, a dark mark in contrast to porcelain skin. 

Distantly, he remembered Pippin telling him about the members of the Fellowship and that there had been an elf with them. Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood, a wise creature and a deadly shot. Faramir watched as the blond knelt beside him, that gentle smile never leaving his fair face. It was only when pale hands reached to remove his tunic did he stop him. 

“Would it not be more polite if you asked first?” The elf’s blue eyes stared into Faramir’s similarly colored ones. The gentle smile twitched into something more mischievous, an almost teasing trait bleeding into his expression.  
“I suppose that would be fair enough.” The elf stepped back, space coming between the two men that Faramir had barely noticed missing. For a moment, he almost pulled the blond back towards him, though that urge left almost immediately after. “I am Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Mirkwood and member of the Fellowship and I have come to redress your wounds.”

“And the other men, have they all been properly tended to?”

“The survivors have. There are many who fell and more who have fatal injuries. The two armies have lost much of their numbers.” Those pale hands gently took Faramir’s, enveloping the fists with a comforting touch. It was the feeling of two men who had both fought too many battles, a sympathy that came from experiences that made it so that no words were needed to convey their understanding. The brunette furrowed his brow, regarding their hands in confusion. Slowly, he unclenched his hands, wincing at the sight of four deep crescent shaped cuts. He had been unaware that his nails had been digging into his palm. 

The elf gave a small, airy chuckle as he came once more to kneel in front of the ranger. His hands moved to take the jug, gently pouring water over them. The soft caress of liquid seemed like almost a foreign thing when the action came from the elf. Slowly, Legolas wound the white bandages over the brunette’s hands, a strange serenity filling the air between them. 

There was something about this elf that was both sorrow and peace placed in a single vessel. The ranger couldn’t quite place what it was, but there was a feeling of calm washing over him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long time. The last time had been with his brother on one of their off days, when they had the whole day to themselves. The bittersweet memory brought moisture to his eyes. He tried to keep his distressed hidden but a lone tear slipped down his face, leaving a damp trail on his cheek. 

A thumb wiped at the tear. Faramir found himself staring into Legolas’s bright blue eyes once more. There was an understanding there, one that he hadn’t seen before. Boromir’s eyes held empathy, but he had never truly understood. None of them did. The soldiers, the rangers, all they saw was a captain, someone to look towards too. His brother saw a child that grew too fast, but one he still cherished and loved. His father looked at him with disdain and disappointment, a cold judgment always present. And yet, the gaze of this elf seemed to pierce his very soul, a sad sympathy held within a gaze bluer than the sky. 

The archer leant forward, moving upward so that soft lips could place a tender kiss upon his forehead. Faramir’s fingers tightened around the elf’s hand that lay on his own. As Legolas pulled back, eyes searching the ranger’s, a shaky smile slipped onto the human’s face for what seemed like the first time in a very long time. The steward’s son brought the elf’s hand behind him, placing the pale hand against his back. Legolas was dragged forward, bringing their bodies much closer together, chest barely touching. 

Their foreheads rested against each other, Legolas’s eyes falling shut while Faramir watched the beautiful creature in front of him. He saw the fine trickles of tears leave his eyes, marring his face with his sadness. The blood smudged, becoming nothing more than a faint imprint against porcelain skin. Faramir kissed the elf’s face, kissing away the tears and the sudden sorrow that the fair creature had held hidden since leaving Lothlorien.  
Fumbling lips met each other, soft and unsure. Legolas brought his other arm to wrap around the ranger while bandaged hands cupped the elf’s face. They reluctantly pulled away from each other, a light blush warming archer’s face. 

“That was rather unexpected.”

A chuckle left Faramir’s lips at the elf’s words, once again bringing their faces together.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I hear you are to ride to the Black Gate of Mordor.” 

Legolas lifted his head, tearing his gaze away from his book. The ranger sat on his cot, his tunic thrown somewhere on the floor as he tightened the bandages wound around his torso. The ranger’s eyes were distant, hands moving mechanically and with ease with the familiar procedure. The elf sighed, though a smile was tugging on his fair face. He moved closer to the ranger, placing his gentle hands on roughed, battle-worn ones.  
“The war has not yet ended. But I swear to you, I will do what I can to return to you.” 

Indeed, the elf returned, clothes soiled and bloodied, his face smeared with bright, metallic red. Still, he immediately sought out Faramir, a joyful smile on his face. And as two familiar hobbits where brought into one of the Houses of Healing, their wounds dressed and cleaned, the ranger felt elation pour into him. He swept the elf off his feet, holding him in a tight embrace that had the dwarf reeling in shock and Isildur’s heir watching with a subdued surprise. 

The ranger had no care for their thoughts as he kissed the breath away from Legolas’s lips with an elated desperation that had the poor elf clinging to him as his legs gave out under him. Finally pulling away from the elf, they both let out laughter filled with their mirth and relief, the joyful sound echoing throughout the building. 

“I see you two have become acquainted with each other.” Faramir grinned sheepishly at Aragorn, reluctantly untangling himself so that he could bow to his new king. However, the other ranger stopped him with a motion of his arm and a smile on his face. “I am not yet king, Faramir, Steward of Gondor. It is I who should bow to you.”

Faramir nodded uncertainly, though he righted himself and held out his hand towards Legolas. Immediately, the archer took the offered limb, weaving his fingers between the ranger’s so that their hands were woven together. 

“This soldier- the elf- together!?” The dwarf sputtered in shock, eyes wide as he stared at their hands. Legolas chuckled at his friend’s indignant cries, pulling himself closer to the human until their sides were wedged together. Faramir found himself unable to push the other away for the sake of public decency, finding that he quite enjoyed the close proximity the two could share. 

There was one message that seemed to float in the wind, carrying itself from Minas Tirith through the dark forest of Mirkwood and to the homely house in the land of Imlandris as the dwarf tried to compose himself, the to-be-King of Gondor smiling and happiness echoing around them. Aragorn came to clasp his friend shoulder, the two exchanging brief words in an Elvish language that Faramir found himself struggling to keep up with.

The war had ended. Peace had fallen over Middle-Earth once more.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What would you say if I asked you to come live in Emyn Arnen with me?”

Legolas tilted his head up from where it leaned against the brunette’s shoulder, surprise washing over his face. It quickly melted away into an expression of content as he leaned over to kiss his lover’s cheek. He could see, and hear, and feel the uncertainty rolling off of the newly appointed Prince of Ithilien. A small chuckle left the elf’s mouth as he wrapped his arms around the brunette.  
“I would, of course, say yes. If that is what my dear sweet prince wishes.”

“Do you, yourself, wish to come?”

“If you would have me, I do.”

Relief eased its way through the Steward of Gondor’s body. He twisted his body to face his lover, wrapping his arms around the archer’s waist. Silence filled the room, disturbed only by the sounds of rustling fabric as the bodies of the two princes melded together. Limbs tangled until one could not find where they started and ended, skin lovingly pushing against skin in their act of love. As they laid there exhausted and sated, Faramir gently embracing the elf, they could think of no other place they’re rather be at. 

Legolas tucked his head into the crook of the Ithilien Prince’s neck, breathing deeply the smell of his lover. He pushed himself closer to the son of Gondor, a gentle, yet sad smile gracing his lips.

“Are you sure?”

Faramir roused from his doze at the voice that filled the silence. He stared down at the crown of blond hair, confusion slipping onto his face. The elf would not look at him, as he was much more interested in hiding his face at the junction between neck and shoulder. He opened his mouth to ask what the elf meant when a shake of his head stopped him.

“I am an elf, Faramir. I will live long after you die.”

“You’re afraid.” The statement was simply said, an almost curious lilt to it. Faramir’s arms tightened around the elf’s figure, knowing that he would not get a confirmation. He let out a soft sigh, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You silly elf. Do you not see that I love you, despite this? I will wait in the Halls of Mandos for you. I am only saddened by the thought of you being alone for all those years.”

“Surely, I will not live that much longer than you.”

“You will live your life to the fullest, I am sure.”

“Is that what you wish?”

“It is.”

Legolas finally brought his head up, placing a tender, chaste kiss on Faramir’s lips. The steward ran his hand through golden hair, inhaling deeply the addictive scent of his lover. They laid together, bare yet secure, in a heap on their bed and slept until dawn when the light of a new day shined upon them.


End file.
